


we're almost there (gonna be a while)

by coalitiongirl_ficlets (coalitiongirl)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl_ficlets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina sets out an appetizer- some kind of fish that looks more expensive than Emma’s paycheck- and sits down opposite her, assessing Emma with an indecipherable look. “Yes, Emma. There’s an occasion.” She spoons out mushroom sauce onto her plate. “You really aren’t aware that we’re dating, are you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're almost there (gonna be a while)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [insanetwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanetwin/gifts).



> The prompt was: "regina asking an oblivious emma out on a date whose like lol okay gal pal sure. she doesn't get it until like date four"

They do dinner at one of the classier places in town to celebrate the one-month anniversary since Regina had kissed her forehead and lifted the Dark One’s curse. “Dress nicely. Don’t wear red. I’m wearing red,” Regina had ordered, and Emma had bobbed her head and not questioned why Regina had picked her up from her new apartment.

Honestly, she hadn’t thought she’d be going out to dinner at all for a long time after she’d turned Hook into a slug as the Dark One, so this kind of venue is pretty great. And she usually does dinner with Regina at Granny’s, and this is a nice change of pace, even if Henry hadn’t come along this time.

“You’re getting stingy in your old age, aren’t you?” she says when they’re seated. There are more whispers than usual directed toward them tonight, and Emma narrows her eyes at some of the commentators. Maybe it’s the dress. “Henry wasn’t invited?”

“I think we can manage some things without Henry by now,” Regina hums, a soft kind of smile on her face that has Emma flushing and glancing at Regina through her eyelashes. She’s especially stunning tonight in a one-shoulder number that’s baring just enough of her cleavage that it takes extra effort for Emma to behave tonight. Emma swallows and stares down at her meal instead, warm and breathless at Regina’s…well, everything.

“Thanks for…you know. Last month.” She flushes again, licking her lips and reminding herself that they’re  _friends_. Good friends. Who share true love.

She hadn’t expected it when they’d all been fighting, the Dark One out of control and Regina and Zelena teaming up to stop her from laying waste to the whole town. Regina had caught her in her arms and she remembers how even the Dark One had wavered at Regina’s touch. She hadn’t expected the quiet declaration that Regina would fight for her, and she hadn’t expected the kiss or the way white light had burned her and cleansed her of the curse at once.

Regina reaches for her hand and squeezes it, her eyes still very soft. “Just…returning the favor.” She’s pink now too, probably from the wine, and they do a lot of that all through their celebratory meal, flushing and gazing and murmured chatting.

Regina insists on paying and walks her to her door, pressing a kiss to Emma’s cheek at the corner of her mouth. “We’ll have to do this again sometime,” she says, voice rising like it’s a question, and Emma nods vigorously in agreement.

Regina’s a good friend, closer than any Emma has had before, and Emma will take whatever opportunity she can to spend time with her.

* * *

Regina drags her along to a museum she wants to visit outside Bangor, and they have rest stop fast food and take terrible photos and do the whole road trip thing all over again, but with Emma less inclined to murder. Which is nice. Emma comes home from that grinning like mad and Henry rolls his eyes at both of them and informs them he’ll be staying at his grandparents that night.

In return, Emma takes Regina and Henry to an amusement park and Henry disappears sometime around when they’re waiting on line for the ferris wheel. Regina sits next to her in the seat, Emma’s arm curled around her waist, and it feels natural and kind of great, enough for them to do the ride twice more before Henry wanders back to find them.

Emma wins Regina a stuffed giraffe that’s half her size and swears that she hadn’t used magic to do it (because magic isn’t supposed to work outside of town, right? So there’s no way that she suddenly looped the ring in the perfect place with magic, no matter what direction it had been going in until then,  _shut up, Henry_ ). Regina kisses her on the cheek for it and says, “This is the third time we’ve gone out, isn’t it? I can’t believe you brought Henry.”

“Well, he is our son, isn’t he?” Emma says, puzzled, and realization flickers on Regina’s face.

“Yes, of course,” she says. Her face drops for a moment and then hardens into steely determination, the kind that has been endearing on Regina’s face ever since it stopped meaning murder. “You’ll come over tomorrow night for dinner,” she informs Emma, and Emma nods her head with enthusiasm.

Regina’s cooking is always, always a yes.

* * *

She arrives at Regina’s in a dress and with a bottle of wine, balancing it under her arm as she knocks on the door and fixes her hair. Regina opens the door, guiding her inside, and Emma swallows. “Uh.”

The house is dim, the dining room table halved and set for two, and there’s a set of candlesticks on the center of the table. Regina pulls out her chair and Emma stares dumbly at it for a moment before she sits.

Regina is a former queen, after all, and Emma guesses that this is just…how she eats when Henry isn’t around? Where is Henry, anyway? So she sits at the table and doesn’t comment on how Regina’s eyes glint in the flickering candlelight like molten gold. “What’s the… Is there an occasion?” she asks.

Regina sets out an appetizer- some kind of fish that looks more expensive than Emma’s paycheck- and sits down opposite her, assessing Emma with an indecipherable look. “Yes, Emma. There’s an occasion.” She spoons out mushroom sauce onto her plate. “You really aren’t aware that we’re dating, are you?”

She chokes on her fish until Regina has to get up and clap her on the back, finally propelling it into her napkin. “ _What_?”

“You and I are dating,” Regina says patiently. Or as patiently as Regina can muster, so she gets an impossibly long eyeroll in the process. “I asked you out two weeks ago. This is our fourth date.”

The pieces all fly into place at that explanation, each one more obvious than the last. Regina kissing her after that night at dinner. The subtle suggestion on the trip to the museum that they get a room and stay overnight (she had said no because of work, like an  _idiot_ ). The flowers she’d found in the station the day after their dinner, which Emma had just assumed had been about royal manners. Emma sits up, horrified. “I invited our  _son_  to our third date?”

“Believe me,” Regina says dryly, “I hadn’t thought you’d be quite that prudish, either.”

“Prudish!”

“You mentally undressed me three times that day before we’d gotten into the car!”

“You were wearing jeans! I can’t be responsible for my actions when your ass looked like–!” she starts hotly, and then remembers that this isn’t her inner monologue anymore and cuts herself off.

Regina glares at her. “And then  _Henry_ popped out of the backseat!”

“Oh, my god.” Emma buries her head in her hands. “Oh, my god. We’re dating?”

“Nice of you to finally join the class,” Regina says, but her eyes are wary and she looks nearly apprehensive about the whole thing. “That is, if you want to date–“

Emma nearly flies around the table, reaching for Regina’s hands and pulling her up to kiss her properly, long and hard and  _definitely_ not in an arguably prudish way,  _thankyouverymuch_. Regina holds on tight and grins against her lips and  _fuck_ , they could have been kissing like this two weeks ago.

“Tell me Henry isn’t home,” she demands against Regina’s lips.

Regina’s forehead dips forward to press against Emma’s temple. “Henry isn’t home,” she says obediently, and then adds the magic words. “And the food can stay in the oven for as long as we need.”

“You are  _perfect_ ,” Emma growls, catching Regina’s lips again, and they stumble for the stairs in a mad dash of limbs and mouths that refuse to come apart again.


End file.
